The Imitation Game
struck me as an odd award season film.
Not because it does anything different than your usual Oscar bait; once
again, this is the tale of an English guy achieving greatness despite/because
of disability. However, what seemed odd
to me was that, while the film is receiving many award nominations,
particularly in the Best Picture category, not many critics are deigning to
place the film among their top picks of the year. I found this curious, as the two lists
generally have some degree of overlap.
Upon seeing the film, though, it’s not hard to understand why this is.
Benedict Cumberbatch plays Alan Turing, the mathematician in
World War II who led the team responsible for cracking Enigma, the German
encoding device used to mask Nazi tactics and battle plans. The title of the film is dually referential,
as the Imitation Game is the test famously developed by Turing to determine
whether a machine has achieved humanly realistic cognitive skills, but the film
is much more interested in Turing’s personal imitation game. The film heavily implies that Turing falls
somewhere in the autism spectrum, as he has trouble with social niceties and
deciphering other people’s emotional states.
This is the aforementioned Oscar-baiting disability, but as far as this
film is concerned, I don’t think that is as problematic as it could have been.
That isn’t to say that I do not recognize the inherent
problem of having yet another able-bodied actor receive acclaim for portraying
disability; this is an all too common trend that really needs to be placed
under a microscope. However, I wouldn’t say
that Cumberbatch’s portrayal is any more offensive than, say, his portrayal of
similar characteristics on the television show Sherlock. Turing’s struggles
are not taken lightly, but his character is more than a one-dimensional
representation of autism. It’s Turing’s
brilliance that takes center stage, and while the film implies that he wouldn’t
have been able to realize his savant achievements were it not for his
anti-social proclivities, it also showcases how those same proclivities made it
difficult for him to gain the time and resources to make the first primitive
computer.
And yet, the film’s screenplay makes this all feel more than
a little trite. The dialogue is laced
with notions that those we don’t imagine anything of do things the rest of us
couldn’t imagine, repeated to the point of obviously trying to become a
tagline. The supporting characters shift
from distrusting to unwaveringly supporting Turing with almost clockwork
efficiency, with only the barest of connecting tissue demonstrating how any of
those characters developed. The only
character whose depths are really explored is Turing himself, and while
Cumberbatch is on par with his usual paradoxical charisma cum social awkwardness,
his performance isn’t something to praise too much. Again, think Sherlock, but with less malice
and more crying.
That’s why this film isn’t great. It’s not bad by any means, but the film’s
problems all come down to its purpose for existing. Yes, it is quite informative of the uplifting
and tragic life of Alan Turing, but underneath that intention, this is a film
made for the purpose of bringing home gold statues. This is the kind of film that award
committees will eat up, but critics are starting to become disillusioned
with. We’ve seen this type of film too
often, and no able-bodied actor doing his best disability impression is going
to make the sea of same-ness any less gray.
The Imitation Game is probably
worth a rental when it comes to home video, but as far as award season greats go,
this is not one of them.
If you’re looking for the epitome of the type of film I’m
talking about, look to The King’s Speech. Or even this year’s The Theory of Everything.
Leave your thoughts on the genre in the comments below.
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